Today I feel helpless. I feel angry. I feel scared.
Yesterday, at least I knew what to do. Mourn. Follow you to the hill and weep when they nailed your hands and your feet. The sky reflected the anguish of that day. The tearing thunder. The blackened world. We laid you in the tomb and my heart broke. We were alone.
But what do we do today? You’re still in that tomb. The stone is rolled across the entrance. Your head and body wrapped in the burial shroud. You are gone. But me? Your followers, your enemies, a whole world that didn’t even know you, we’re still here. And we’re still alone.
And today the sun is shining. It should be pouring rain. The skies should be hurling lightening and roaring thunder. The ground should break apart and the earth shift. Anything to reflect the utter brokenness that your death brought me. But the world isn’t changing. Its not shifting, roaring, or weeping. Today is quiet. Today…maybe should life goes on.
Do I go back to the way things were before I met you? Before you made me hope that the world could be different? Should I go back to a life of casting out my net, hoping to catch enough to make me better than my neighbour? Do I go back to a life of walking the streets with my head down because I don’t want to see the brokenness in the eyes mine would meet? Back to a world that saw untouchables, prostitutes and lepers instead of people?
I’m too scared to leave this locked room.